Looking across the class, I see faces. Beautiful, bored faces,staring at the lecturer while clicking or swiping their phones underneath the desks. These are the paragons of health and youth and whatnot. They believe in their invincibility, they won’t die. They believe in the faltering speech of the ancients.
These faces are much more than my classmates, sometimes I feel like they are much more than friends. These share some of the most important parts of my day. These play my hunger games.
Today’s game centersaround their mother instincts, and yes, only girls can play. Looking at the light skinned Christian twins at the front, I can already see them as mothers, at the core, they are good people. They have all the features.
Now their neighbour will not be so lucky. Her love of materialistic, expensive trinkets will be the death of her.She looks like she will settle for a sham of a marriage if it may get her into the right country club and buy her all the diamond tennis bracelets she will ever need.
Before we go any further, I am not a prophet of doom, I left that to Elvis Mbonye and NabbiYoMukazi. I am just a careful observer of human behaviour and this I have learnt. Old habits die hard.
Across the room, I see Linda. She is going to be, God help me, a tough single mother. Her type is the one that prefers long distance love, because she is so like a man; Proud and self reliant. Don’t forget egotistic. I grieve for the Love starved children she will have, but their morals, biblically speaking will be sung across many a hill.
Next to me is the most lethargic human being alive. Firstly,the child she will have will work hard in order to counteract the mother’s laziness. But she wont have any morals because the mother will not have had any time to instill them in her.
What I am trying to say here is, most of how we are stems from what our parents are like, I don’t doubt it, for almost three minutes, you have been subjected to misguided,inane analysis of my classmates.
The main point here though is that we are who we are. Deep down, who our parents are, what we have gone through does not matter, we are our very own person. I do not like to sugar coat a bitter pill. I think the only reason while I am not a judge, don’t even want to be one is because I do not know how to tell a half truth. Without swearing at least.
Life is hard, Somehow somewhere, someone is starving, someone is crying, someone is dying. Those people have relatives, friends classmates. But only two in Ten will become criminals.Why? Werent they as abused as the rest, did they have a respite in their suffering? No! They made a conscious decision to tuck in their chins and live on. It is as simple as that.
These things mbu,. My mother beat me with a foot long rod so I have to stab and rape every female with a red weave is plainly bull shit. You made the depraved decision, you are the cause, and outcome, only you!
The same goes for the less morbid decisions we make in life. Blaming our parents, our teachers, the school nurse, even the milkman won’t change the fact that you are pregnant, and the baby will come out of you, and from now and evermore, the title will be, your child.
Joyce Meyer was abused, Oprah Winfrey the same. A friend of mine was raped so badly, I am still scarred by the brutality while we were still toddlers. I do not see them selling their bodies to the highest bidder. Nor do they sit around moping around, cursing life. So hold the reins to your life, and cut your past some slack, the whole, I was abused while young story has become cliché and quite boring if you ask me. You don’t cut your tongue to spite your face you know.
So to all, the adulterers, murderers, harlots and drug traffickers out there, pluck a leaf from the Uganda Martyrs. Every 3rd June, Ugandans celebrate the incredible willpower a human can have when they are in full control of all their facilities.